Homily for the Easter Vigil, March 30, 2013 Graves Chapel

Tonight, in the Old Testament stories about God’s rescuing of the Israelite people, how Moses led them out of Egypt, we see a God who goes to great lengths to demonstrate his abiding love to his people. The same God who sent Moses to rescue the Israelites from slavery in Egypt sent his Son into the world to save all people through the power of love.

In St. John’s gospel, in Chapter 12, Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time, riding a borrowed donkey.  Palm Sunday is the commemoration of that triumphal entry, when the people thronged the streets to see the great teacher, shouting “Hosanna!” His followers must have exulted at the prospect that their beloved Lord would finally take the reins of political leadership, but that was not what Jesus—or the Father--had in mind.  Later that day, Jesus says to his disciples, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”  Jesus explains the necessity of his approaching death.  His disciples, who refused to believe he would die, didn’t get it. 

Like the disciples, we may not fully understand or accept why every human life, at some time or another, endures the darkness of pain, suffering, fear, or grief, but we know such agony is unavoidable. Now, two millennia after the life of the carpenter from Nazareth, maybe we can agree that what Jesus said about his death bearing fruit was extraordinarily accurate: Today, according to the Pew Research Center, there are 2 BILLION, 180 MILLION Christians in the world. Why are so many still attracted to the Christian way?

In the name of radical love, Jesus died a cruel death so that his followers would have assurance that death is not the final human reality.  Christ’s resurrection promises the ultimate salvation. His beloved followers, even the majority who were not present with Him near the cross, had their fears and doubts removed by their encounters with the resurrected Jesus. Thanks to Mary Magdalene and the other women who first saw the risen Lord, the disciples were called into action and founded the early church. They finally understood the power of Christ’s love to bear fruit. The church rests on a love that denies the self for the greater good of others.

 The words LOVE and CHURCH both imply community. It takes at least two people—the one who loves and the beloved—for love to happen. Church is a fellowship of Christians, and the church universal is one very large family. The church is called the “bride of Christ” to suggest the ideal closeness borne of Christian love.  Father Edmond Browning, former Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, has this to say about community: “There is nothing more important than community. We are in community from the moment of conception, dependent upon our mother, our bodies sustained by her heartbeat. The mysterious doctrine of the Trinity is really all about this fact: Even God has never been alone. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, that incomprehensible three–in-one that has always been and will always be—God is a relationship.”  Isn’t that a wonderful thing to ponder?

This Holy Week I’ve been especially conscious of Jesus as a member of that special kind of relationship we call a family. March 25^th is always celebrated in the church as Annunciation Day, the day when the angel appeared to Mary and told her that she would bear the son of God.  This year, Annunciation Day fell on the Monday of Holy Week, and it was a good reminder of how Mary was with her son from beginning to end.  From Bethlehem to Golgotha, Mary was a constant in Jesus’s life. She was one of the few gathered beneath the cross.  We can only try to imagine how much pain she suffered watching her son die in that terrible way. Let’s go a step further and try to imagine God’s anguish over the pain his son endured.  As did Jesus, God knew this pain was necessary and would bear fruit.  Knowing that didn’t make it less painful.

So here we are at last to the fulfillment of the promise: Easter morning is upon us, and the Lord Jesus will rise to new life. Jesus’s experience on the cross, his entering into the darkness of death, is the revelation of God’s covenant with us. God KNOWS how much we hurt, and God chooses to be with us, to comfort us, in all our suffering. That Trinity, which Bishop Browning called a relationship?  We are invited to join it.  In fact, we are already members of the body of Christ whether we choose to be or not.  The promise of eternal love is always extended in our direction, in this life and the next. That is why when we turn our hearts toward God, we find God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit already there, awaiting us. Maybe they are saying, “What took you so long?”

Allelujah! Amen.

Homily for Good Friday, March 29, 2013

Shall We Follow?

Today, Good Friday, is Ground Zero of the church year. On this day the Alpha and the Omega are revealed to us, the pinnacle of divine love and the depth of utter despair.  When the Son of God entered the city of Jerusalem along palm-strewn streets, he knew where his journey was taking him, although none of his disciples knew, or even wanted to know. The Holy Prince astride a donkey said of himself, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  Yet the way that Jesus took, amid the sounds of loud hosannas, was the way toward silence, darkness, and the tomb. As his followers, we are asked to join him on his way. Shall we?

This way is a way of pain—immense pain and suffering.

The Roman soldiers flog Jesus.

They place a crown of thorns on his head,

implanting it so deeply that blood streams down his face.

They take his hands roughly in their own, pressing each hand against the jagged wood of the cross. 

The blows of the hammer reverberate as the nails

penetrate his palms.

Then, they nail each of his feet to the cross.

Hoisting it above Golgotha, the soldiers ram the cross into the hard earth.

Helpless to support his own weight,

the torso of Jesus slumps forward.

In this position, it becomes very hard for him to breathe.

The longer he hangs there, the harder it becomes.

Beneath the cross, a few of his loved ones—very few—are gathered. 

Knowing they suffer to see him on the cross,

his suffering is increased.

This way is a way of betrayal and abandonment.

Jesus sees his aunt, his mother, Mary Magdalene,

and his beloved disciple John in the crowd.

But where are the others?

Judas had betrayed him, as Jesus had predicted.

In his anger over Jesus’s arrest,

Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s slave.

Yet, Peter betrayed him, too, and is nowhere to be seen.

As he moves closer to the predetermined end,

Jesus believes himself to be completely abandoned.

St. Matthew tells us that he says, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

This way is a way of utter loneliness and isolation.

The handful of beloved witnesses weeping beneath the cross

cannot accompany Jesus into his death.

The human Jesus, a man alone, is now revealed in his mortality.

“It is finished,” he says.

A man’s broken, bloodied, and pierced body, lifeless and limp,

is lowered to the ground below.

The way of Jesus is a way that relinquishes all attachments.

In his willing acceptance of the cross, Jesus let go of everything.

He surrendered the things he loved.

From the cross, he gives the care of his mother to John, saying

“Woman, here is your son.”

Yes, this is a statement of love for both of them.

But what pain did it cost Jesus to leave his beloved behind?

This way is a way of deep darkness, fully entered.

And then, there is the tomb itself.

Joseph of Arimathea lays Jesus gently in a nearby tomb,

a cave hewn into earth and rock, a place both cold and damp.

Sealed shut by an immense stone, the cave is inescapable.

And dark. Very dark.

As we follow the way of the cross with Jesus, let us remember that He experienced the utter darkness of the tomb because darkness is part of every human life.  Darkness, of one kind or another, is unavoidable.  The intertwining of human lives  renders both great joy and great sorrow.

Richard Rohr, Franciscan priest and author of the book Everything Belongs explains the crucifixion in this way:

“The cross is not the price that Jesus had to pay to talk God into loving us. It is simply where love will lead us. Jesus names the agenda. If we love, if we give ourselves to feel the pain of the world, it will crucify us.”  

Again:

“The cross is not the price that Jesus had to pay to talk God into loving us. It is simply where love will lead us. Jesus names the agenda. If we love, if we give ourselves to feel the pain of the world, it will crucify us.”

As he took leave of his disciples at the Last Supper, Jesus commanded them, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Jesus tells us love is required. He shows us love is worth the pain it causes.

Amen.

Homily for Sunday, February 24, 2013

Jesus: Mother Hen

Today’s Lesson: Luke 13:31-35

Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.' Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'"

In today’s passage from Luke, Jesus calls Herod a fox and compares himself to a mother hen. Instead of his usual parables, it seems that he is about to tell a fable. If Herod is a fox, then who would expect a chicken to survive in a contest between the two creatures? Yet Jesus suggests that the hen will be triumphant.

My dear aunt, Mabel Estes, who, like my mother, was born just down the road at the Estes homeplace, was a first grade teacher, avid gardener, and amateur bird watcher.  Many of my most significant childhood memories center around Aunt Mabel, with whom I spent much of every summer at the farm. From Mabel I learned many things about the natural world.  There was an extensive garden at the farm in those days, including lovely flower beds and all of the customary vegetables (potatoes, tomatoes, beans, and corn) as well as strawberries, rhubarb, asparagus, and even a patch of bamboo for the would-be fisherman. I was Aunt Mabel’s gardening assistant, and I remember her teaching me how to pick strawberries (very carefully!) and arrange flowers.

When I was seven years old, Mabel gave me an illustrated book of birds and began teaching me the names of the common ones that were then plentiful here in the valley.  The first bird I learned to identify was the catbird, a sort of plain little gray bird, but with its “meow” and little black cap, it was easily distinguishable from its cousin, the mockingbird.  Knowing the birds by name opened a new window on our world for me. I loved to hear the bobwhites calling in the sunny summer fields. At night, the whippoorwills’ shrill cries echoed from the mountainside. One summer, a wild mama turkey and her brood made a regular trek past our kitchen window every morning.

I still love watching and listening to birds, a great pleasure I owe to Aunt Mabel. Considered by some to be the only surviving dinosaurs, birds are remarkable in so many ways—most notably, in their gifts of feathers, flight, and song.

All those things considered, it seems both surprising and wonderful that of all the birds Jesus could have compared himself to, as he does in today’s lesson from Luke, Jesus chose an ordinary chicken. Not just a chicken, but a mother hen!

The chickens of my childhood were so plain and everyday, smelly and underfoot, that it was hard not to take them for granted, as we do today. They had to be fed and tended; every now and then you’d see one running around without its head.  I’m not sure I even thought of them as being in the same species as the beautiful redwing blackbirds or the soaring hawks.  I believe that’s exactly the point Jesus is making.

Chickens were first domesticated by humans some 2000 years before the birth of Jesus. No other bird is as present in the lives of humans as is the chicken, and in his teachings, Jesus reminds his followers that He, in the form of the Advocate (or Holy Spirit) will be ever present with them. Knowing how we humans take God for granted and turn our backs on him, even in our need for him, Jesus cries out to Jerusalem, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

 Surely in saying this, Jesus is making reference to the many psalms that include verses about God sheltering humans in the shadow of his wings. Most of those verses seem to imply a big strong bird of prey, such as an eagle, capable of defending us from all enemies. Here Jesus is telling us something very different about the power of God’s love to protect us: God is maternal and, like any mother, God will shelter and save us, even at great cost to himself.  As we know, Jesus paid such a cost in his duel of wits with Herod, and yet, Jesus (the mother hen) has the final word through his resurrection.

Today, our Lord continues to offer us the shelter of his wings. If we listen, we may hear God clucking over us! 

Amen.

Homily for January 27, 2013

Fulfilling the Law With Love

Lessons:

Nehemiah 8: 1-3, 5-6, 8-10

Psalm 19

1 Corinthians 12: 12-31a

Luke 4: 14-21

The Collect:

Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

“Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call.”  What is it exactly the Church and we Christians are called to do?  How are we supposed to proclaim the Good News?  I believe we proclaim it best by living it. Jesus told his disciples they would be known by their love, and we are called to love one another and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Today’s world, however, often seems to be sorely lacking in love. According to a survey conducted recently by Duke University, one in four Americans cannot name even one person they consider a close friend or confidante. How can that be? Surely there aren’t that many lonely people all around us.

Andi Tillmann, a young woman who works for the Diocesan development program, shared that information with us last Sunday at Buck Mountain Church. She says she is haunted by the statistic: one in four Americans believes himself or herself to be friendless. She also said that what churches have to offer a lonely world is community.

“Just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body--Jews or Greeks, slaves or free...” Isn’t this Saint Paul’s way of saying “It takes a village”? A true Christian community welcomes everyone because we understand that each of us has something to offer, that each of us is necessary to complete the whole.  We know that we need one another. We understand that we, as the body of Christ in the world, are placed here to do the work of the Lord. We also seem to require some rules to live by, insurance that we will treat one another with respect and consideration.

Psalm 19 includes these verses about God’s law:

The law of the LORD is perfect
and revives the soul; *
the testimony of the LORD is sure
and gives wisdom to the innocent.

8

The statutes of the LORD are just
and rejoice the heart; *
the commandment of the LORD is clear
and gives light to the eyes.

In giving humans laws to live by, our spiritual ancestors believed God made it possible for them to live peaceful, prosperous, and productive lives in community with one another. The law lays a foundation for what we have come to know as civilized life, and in the Old Testament, we see a people chosen by God and led by the law-giver Moses as they are transformed from nomadic primitives to founders of the great city of Jerusalem.  David, the first king to reign in that city, penned the words of Psalm 19 in praise of the mercy in God’s law.

            In today’s lesson from the Book of Nehemiah, the priest Ezra is asked to read the book of the law before the assembled people.  This is the context of the situation: Nehemiah has returned to Jerusalem, along with many of the people who had been in exile. Having served as an official in the court of the Persian emperor who liberated the Israelites from Babylonian captivity, Nehemiah convinced the emperor to send him to Jerusalem to rebuild the walls and reestablish God’s law in the city. Moved by Nehemiah’s story of his homeland, the emperor names him governor of Judea and sends him with an escort and funding for his mission.  At the point when the priest Ezra stands before the people to read the law, the wall has been rebuilt and the people have been reunited under Nehemiah’s leadership. Having lived through captivity and exile (and for those who had remained in Judea, rebellion and chaos), it is not surprising that the people weep to hear these words that remind them they are the children of a just, merciful, and loving God.

In today’s gospel lesson from Luke, David’s descendent Jesus returns to Nazareth, to the village he called home, where he goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath.  He stands to read from the scroll he is handed, and these prophetic words of Isaiah are the ones he shares:

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

and recovery of sight to the blind,

to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

If he had just read these words and taken his seat again, it would have seemed like any other Sabbath to his neighbors from the community of Nazareth. But he doesn’t just sit down. He makes a very startling statement: "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."  Among the people who have known him for his whole life, in the small town of Nazareth, the carpenter’s son announces that He himself is the fulfillment of the law. He himself is the anointed one, the Son of David.  Through the prophet’s words, Jesus tells us exactly what God has sent him to do.  And what is that?  Not to rule as a king would rule—Jesus has not been sent to live in wealth and splendor and majesty as his ancestor David had done. No, he has been sent to bring mercy, justice, and love to all, but especially to the most isolated members of the community, the ones who are usually relegated to the lonely margins of society: the poor, the imprisoned, the sick and disabled, the victims of injustice and abuse. These may very well have been the one-in-four of the society of Jesus’s world, those who had no close friends or confidantes. Jesus came to show them the love they had never experienced. We are called to do the same for their counterparts today. It is not an easy calling.

Although Graves Chapel is quiet and empty on most days, it still serves as the physical center of this community. I can recall a time when the chapel was a more active gathering place for the people of Graves Mill. Of course, in the years after the flood when Postmistress Ruth Lillard was stationed in the back of the chapel, folks came by most days to pick up the mail or chat with one another. That interaction is a necessary part of community, but it isn’t the spiritual community that Christ calls us to be part of.  I remember being here for services as a child when the chapel was full and my mother played the piano. I could look around and name everyone sitting in the pews because they were all neighbors, friends, and family. If I closed my eyes now, I’m sure I could still see them there in my mind’s eye.  The ladies all wore their Sunday-best dresses, and the men were attired in suits. Even when I didn’t understand everything the preacher said, I knew from the very experience of being part of this worship community that God was at the center of our lives. 

God remains here in the chapel and in each of our hearts. God is still the center of our lives. God isn’t the one who has gone into exile and is missing from our world.  If it seems that we have lost God, it is only because we do not choose to see him. When we serve Christ in one another, when we look for him among the poor or sick or lonely, when we find him in the love we share, we will know that the Lord is always in our midst. That is the promise of God’s law of love. Jesus is the fulfillment of that law.    Amen.

 

Homily for December 23, 2012

Always Christmas

Lessons:

 Canticle 15: The Magnificat

Micah 5: 2-5a

Hebrews 10:5-10

Luke 1:39-45

The Collect:

Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Well, we have once again averted apocalypse. Maybe we should keep a record of every time this happens; having such a tally might help us to maintain perspective. At this time of year, when the scripture lessons point to the end of time and the Second Coming of Christ, the added element of the ominous Mayan calendar prediction of world’s end could make anyone a bit jumpy.

I’m not sure what it is in human nature that causes so many of us to be fascinated by the idea of Armageddon, but it does appear that we greatly prefer the thought of collective annihilation to any reflection on our own personal removal from this earthly realm, a fate that will come to each of us in due time.  Our preparation in Advent for both the birth and the Second Coming of Jesus Christ may have that very purpose—to turn our thoughts to an honest appraisal of our lives, of their meaning, and of their ultimate end. Christ’s glorious birth, his brief but world-changing ministry, and his violent death at a young age are components of a larger story—a story fulfilled by his resurrection and the promise it holds for us that there will be life after this life.

So, once again, I ask the question—why do some of us  spend so much time and energy thinking about Armageddon? Why do we worry about the end of time? A prophecy like that of the Mayan calendar disrupts our usual idea of apocalypse as something that could only happen in the far-distant future. We prefer to keep it there. Yet, every generation faces its own apocalypse. All of the people of the generation that founded Graves Chapel, for example, are no longer with us. While they were here, they lived from day to day, just as we do, enjoying their blessings and enduring their hardships.  Stepping out in faith, they kept this little church going, bequeathing it to succeeding generations. They knew, as we do, that a life lived in Christ contains much more than time’s calendar can measure. That is the message and the hope of Advent. Even though we look forward to celebrating the joyous birth of an innocent baby, Advent reminds us of the rest of Christ’s story and all that it means.

When Mary goes to visit her older cousin Elizabeth, who is finally expecting a child, we imagine Mary seeks wisdom and nurturing advice. After all, Mary has just been visited by the angel Gabriel and finds herself surprisingly pregnant. The encounter between the two women, recorded in Luke 1, reveals that each of them recognized the significance of the child she bore. Yes, there is the joy and fearful anticipation all expectant mothers feel, but there is also an understanding that their sons’ lives will follow an uncommon, difficult trajectory.

Elizabeth reports that the child in her womb, who would grow up to become John the Baptist, leapt at the sound of Mary’s voice. Elizabeth exclaims, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?”  This is the blessing and affirmation Mary needs from her cousin; at this point in Mary’s story it seems likely she has not confided in anyone that she is pregnant.  Now, before she has a chance to tell Elizabeth, not only does the older woman know, but the great-prophet-to-be Elizabeth carries also knows. They know that the infant in Mary’s womb is the long-expected Lord and Savior.

Mary’s eloquent response, so aptly called the Magnificat, is filled with hope and exultation for all of the things this Son of hers will mean for her people—for the poor and oppressed, the downtrodden children of Israel, who have wandered for too long in a spiritual wilderness, waiting for a sign from God. “He has mercy on those who fear him in every generation,” Mary says. In this speech, a very young woman speaks about the passage and the fullness of time, as if the baby she carries has already accomplished all the things expected of him. God, in choosing her as the vessel for the savior’s birth, “has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.” Yes, she is speaking of the history of God’s relationship with the people of Israel. But she is also speaking of the future, when the child she carries will change the world.  As we now know, that change was not something Jesus would live to see. Nor did Mary. However, the world has now existed through two millennia with the message of Jesus Christ, a message of peace and brotherly love, still holding sway in the hearts of many. 

As the collect for today states, it is not just the words of Jesus that live on in the hearts of contemporary Christians. We believe that Christ himself, through the Holy Spirit, is ever with us and within us. Advent asks us to remember our eternal guest, to keep our souls ready and open to receive Him. “Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation,” the collect says. Mindful that Christ comes to us at any time we turn our hearts toward him, we are called to cleanse our interior space so “that, at his coming, He may find in us a mansion prepared for himself.”  The child born in the town of Bethlehem, in a place reserved for the beasts, deserves nothing less from us than the best lodging we have to offer.

Time’s calendar and the church’s calendar bring us full circle during this season of the year.  Our preparations for Christ’s birth and for the ringing in of a new year signal opportunities for new beginnings. That we revisit these same festivals and bring out the same old ornaments and recipes every December suggests the human need for new beginnings.  As the collect for Christmas says, “O God, you make us glad by the yearly festival of the birth of your only Son Jesus Christ: Grant that we, who joyfully receive him as our Redeemer, may with sure confidence behold him when he comes to be our Judge.” Past, present and future, Christ’s and our own, are tied together in our celebrations. In the fullness of time, time itself is redeemed for us. What a great blessing!

My little granddaughter, Lillian Grace, celebrated her 4^th birthday on Thursday, December 20^th. One of the presents I gave her is a book I bought during the Advent of her birth year, when I was waiting in great joy and anticipation for the birth of my first grandchild. The beautiful picture book is called Little One, We Knew You’d Come.  This is the way it begins:  “We hoped. We dreamed. We watched for you. We counted the days till you were due. We waited. How we longed for you and the day that you were born.”  These are the thoughts of every expectant parent or grandparent. They also must have been Mary’s thoughts. In fact, the gorgeous illustrations for the book are scenes from the story of Jesus’s birth.  In the first pages, Mary is riding a donkey led by Joseph. Then, we see them in the stable. The book says, “It was late at night. The time had come. The time for you to come, my love. You’ll be here soon. We’re ready for you and the day that you were born. Little one, we knew you’d come.”  Notice the intermingling of past, present, and future in those words. It WAS late at night. You WILL be here soon. We ARE ready.  The day that you WERE born.  Our celebrations of this season exist in that timeless way. So does the Lord, about whom we say He was, is, and ever shall be.

In the next section of Little One, We Knew You’d Come, the baby is born. “By silver stars, and golden moon, at break of dawn, you came.”  The shepherds gathered by night on the hillside and the star that leads the wise men to the stable—we have always believed the baby Jesus arrived in the night. This sweet story suggests it could have been toward the break of dawn, appropriate for the world’s new beginning. Finally, the story ends with these words: “And every year, we remember you, our miracle child, our dreams come true. Oh, how we thank heaven for you! And the day that you were born!”

Are these not the words that any parent (or grandparent) could speak on the birthday of a beloved child? Have we not all been such a child at some time in the past, and doesn’t that child, like the Christ child, still live on within us?  As we look forward to the celebration of the birth of Christ, let us never forget that the true way to honor that birth is to love each and every child of God we encounter.

I pray that we may we make the mansions in our hearts big enough to hold all God’s children.

Amen.

Homily for November 25, 2012

 Christ the King

Psalm 93 or 132:1-13

John 18:33-37

Pilate entered the headquarters again, summoned Jesus, and asked him, "Are you the King of the Jews?" Jesus answered, "Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?" Pilate replied, "I am not a Jew, am I? Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?" Jesus answered, "My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jews. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here." Pilate asked him, "So you are a king?" Jesus answered, "You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice."

Almighty and everlasting God, whose will it is to restore all things in your well-beloved Son, the King of kings and Lord of lords: Mercifully grant that the peoples of the earth, divided and enslaved by sin, may be freed and brought together under his most gracious rule; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

“My kingdom is not from this world…my kingdom is not from here.”  So Jesus replies to Pilate’s bold question of him, “Are you the king of the Jews?”  In spite of Jesus’s firm testimony that he was no earthly king, Pilate had a placard, reading “The King of the Jews,” nailed to the cross above Christ’s head.

Today is the last Sunday in Pentecost; Advent begins next Sunday. This day is also known as “Christ the King” Sunday. From today’s gospel lesson, where Jesus is being interrogated by Pontius Pilate, we know we are nearing the end of his earthly story. In the church year, we are about to begin that story all over again, with the events in Bethlehem. Jesus’s words to Pilate challenge us to ponder exactly what kind of kingdom Jesus claims as his own. What kind of king is Jesus Christ?

Clearly there have been earthly kings, Jesus’s ancestor David included, who have abused their power and privilege. David was a great king and a (mostly) faithful servant of God—except for that ruinous incident with Bathsheba and her husband, David would have a clean record.  The world, as it is, being full of temptations, it is probably easier for us to think of the names of powerful kings who have indulged in bad behavior than to list the names of good kings. Henry the 8^th comes to mind immediately, what with his six wives and notoriously bad temper.

It’s a shame we don’t hear more about King Alfred, who ruled in Britain from 871 until 899 and is the only English king to have been given the appellation “Great.” In its commemoration of Alfred on October 26^th, our Episcopal book Lesser Feasts and Fasts says, “Alfred, alone of all English rulers, has been called ‘the Great’ because of his courage and Christian virtues.” As warrior king, Alfred, by establishing fortified defenses throughout the land and organizing a well-trained army, united the disparate groups of Anglo-Saxon people and led them to the defeat of the invading Danes. To expand the defenses of his island kingdom, he had a fleet of 60-oar longships constructed, and this small navy was critical in continuing to repel the Danish invaders. He oversaw the restoration and rebuilding of London, which had fallen into enemy hands. With peace and prosperity well in hand, Alfred was the first English king to codify a book of law, based on biblical law and guaranteeing the rights of the common people.

But those are not all of Alfred’s accomplishments. Believing that the people needed to be educated in their own language, Alfred had important religious and historical classics translated into English. In fact, he translated some of these documents himself, including Pope Gregory the Great’s handbook of pastoral care as well as the first fifty psalms. Alfred’s desire to spread the word of the Lord among his people was as great as his own desire to live and lead by that Word. It is said that King Alfred the Great accomplished all of these things by modeling his life on the life of Christ. He believed his duty as king was to serve as a Christ-like example to his people, to care for them as a pastor cares for his flock.

When Jesus says to Pilate, “My kingdom is not from this world,” he doesn’t tell us what that kingdom of his will be like. Power-brokers like Pilate and ruthless kings like Herod can’t begin to imagine the kind of kingdom Jesus speaks of.  Like King Alfred the Great, the only thing we contemporary Christians know for sure about a kingdom ruled by Jesus Christ is how his subjects are to be treated. Following the teachings of his Lord and Saviour, King Alfred loved his people, protected them as a shepherd protects his sheep, and sought to do what was best for them, as a father does for his children. A good king is a pastor, a father, and a shepherd.

There is an old hymn, based on the 23^rd psalm, that beautifully expresses all of these things about Christ the King.  It goes like this:  “The King of love my shepherd is, whose goodness faileth never. I nothing lack if I am his and he is mine forever. Perverse and foolish oft I strayed, but yet in love he sought me, and on his shoulder gently laid, and home, rejoicing brought me. And so through all the length of days, thy goodness faileth never; Good Shepherd may I sing thy praise within thy house forever.”  Amen.

Homily for October 28, 2012

    

 Reason to Give Thanks

Lessons:

Jeremiah 31:7-9

Psalm 126

The collect for today begins with these words: “Almighty and everlasting God, increase in us the gifts of faith, hope, and charity.” Those three gifts are outlined most beautifully  in 1^st Corinthians 13, where charity, or love as it is now translated, is said to be the greatest gift of all. This beautiful chapter from the epistle is often read at weddings. Because my mother was the most complete embodiment of the text that I had ever encountered, I asked to have 1^st Corinthians 13 read at her funeral.

In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul is clearly defining what it means to be a mature Christian. Verse 11 famously states: “When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways.” Ultimately, according to Paul, it is love, and the wisdom of love, that sustains believers through their lives, even through the most difficult of times.  To quote again from the passage: “Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” God’s love for us (and our love for God and for one another) gives Christians hope and strengthens our faith. Paul’s beautiful words again: “Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way…Love never ends.”

In today’s lesson from Jeremiah 31, the prophet has shifted from his usual voice of lamentation to one of praise and thanksgiving. After years in exile, their punishment for faithlessness and disobedience, the children of Israel have reason for hope. Jeremiah proclaims the faithful remnant will be rewarded. God promises to make a new covenant with the remaining people of Israel and to restore them to their land. Who are the people among this faithful remnant? Are they the wealthy, the powerful, the members of the king’s family? As Jeremiah sees them, they are “the blind and the lame,  those with child and those in labor.” They are “the meek, who will inherit the earth” in the words of Christ. These are the ones who, having little else, are kept going by their love and kindness, by their humility and faith, by their hope in God’s mercy. Faith, hope, and love.  Through Jeremiah, God promises to be their father and to offer them the long-awaited consolation. In return, God asks only for gratitude. As Jeremiah puts it:  “Sing aloud with gladness, proclaim, give praise and say, ‘Save O Lord your people, the remnant of Israel.”

If Jeremiah’s words are the call, then Psalm 126 echoes the appropriate response: “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dream. Then our mouth was filled with laughter and our tongue with shouts of joy; then it was said among the nations, ‘The Lord has done great things for them.’ The Lord has done great things for us, and we rejoiced.”

Why is the gift of rejoicing borne of gratitude such a potent thing? This kind of joy has to commence from recognition, from the moment of awareness that one’s life is blessed.  As we might all agree, the moments when we see ourselves as blessed are too few and often far between. This is not to say that our blessings are few—far from it. If we choose to see our lives in the light of blessedness, we can find something to be grateful for at any given moment.  When we do turn our hearts in gratitude to God, we know that the Lord is always present with us, as present as our many blessings. This affirmation, always available to us in gratitude, reinforces our faith, hope, and love.

When times are tough and our days feel shadowed by worry, fear, or relentless gloom, it can be hard to recognize the ways we are blessed. I think of the gifted spiritual masters of the Middle Ages and wonder how they held onto faith, hope, and love. The Middle Ages have also been called the Dark Ages, beset as they were by ignorance, superstition, plague, and war. The beloved mystic Dame Julian of Norwich survived the plague and her own life-threatening illness. As she was recovering from illness, she had a series of visions from God, recorded by her priest and known as The Revelations of Divine Love. Wishing to serve and worship God in a way unique to the Middle Ages, Dame Julian spent many years as an anchoress, literally walled into a tiny room attached to her church. Having no doors, her room had only two small openings, too small to be called windows, one to the outside world and one to the church. Through the opening to the church, she received communion. Through the opening to the outside world, she received food and water. Through that same small opening, she counseled the numerous pilgrims who sought her out for spiritual advice. Today, we remember Julian from the words revealed to her in her vision of divine love: “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” Blessed assurance!

Meister Eckhart was a German theologian, philosopher, and Dominican priest whose writings may have influenced Dame Julian. Also considered a mystic, Eckhart made a profoundly simple statement about prayer that is widely quoted today: “If the only prayer you said in your whole life was, ‘thank you,’ that would suffice.” 

Gratitude is the key to happiness. If you don’t believe that is true, consider all of the people you know who constantly complain because something always seems to be going wrong in their lives. From where we stand, these people may be blessed with comfortable homes, good jobs, and loving families. Still, they complain. Maybe that’s why Meister Eckhart emphasized the value of a simple “Thank you.”

First on our list of things to be grateful for might be the gifts Paul outlined in 1^st Corinthians 13: faith, hope, and love. Since these intangible gifts may be hard to define, easy to slip from our grasp, and often out of our field of awareness, they may not seem all that important. But they are all we need to get by. 

Amen.